


The Lying Pathologist

by cycling_lane



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, I don't actually know, John and Sherlock hug!, Sherlolly - Freeform, s04e02 left me an emotional mess, sort of, they're just friends though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cycling_lane/pseuds/cycling_lane
Summary: She felt like an intruder, which was odd. Even in the early days, when Sherlock had scoffed and rolled his eyes every time he’d seen her, calling her out on unflattering lipstick colours and ghastly outfits, she had never felt unwelcome in his home.Or what happens when Molly Hooper walks in during Sherlock and John's hug and is overcome by emotions.Sherlolly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Sherlolly, after many years of silently lurking around the ship. I wasn't planning on ever writing anything with those two in it (mainly because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to do them justice), but after last night's episode I have finally given in! 
> 
> This was written after three hours of sleep and waaaaaay too many cappuccinos, so please be nice haha :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

Molly Hooper was never early. She was either punctual or ten minutes late, because she’d stayed up the night before to finish reading a book and couldn’t drag herself out of bed on time the next morning.

Today was an exception, though. She was at Baker Street fifteen minutes earlier than she needed to be, and she didn’t know why.   

She could blame the past couple of days. The last time she’d seen Sherlock, he had been in a terrible state. She’d been a mess ever since and was eager to see him again, alive and well (or as well as could be expected).

She could also blame her ridiculous, pathetic crush on him that had never really gone away, although Molly preferred not to. She liked to think that her early arrival was because of Sherlock’s birthday, which was a perfectly acceptable explanation that didn’t require her to look too deep into her heart.

It wasn't even that important. She was early. Point. She wasn't going to wait outside.

The stairs creaked under her feet as she made her way to Sherlock’s flat. It was eerily quiet in the building, the traffic sounds from outside nothing but a faint rumble in the background. It made her feel like she was intruding, which was odd. Even in the early days, when Sherlock had scoffed and rolled his eyes every time he’d seen her, calling her out on unflattering lipstick colours and ghastly outfits, she had never felt unwelcome in his home.

The moment she opened the door to his flat, Molly knew why she did feel that way today.

Sherlock and John were in the sitting room, wrapped in a hug. John’s shoulders heaved with silent sobs. His face was pressed into Sherlock’s dressing gown. The consulting detective pulled him to his chest fiercely, his mouth set in a firm line.

At first, Molly thought that Sherlock was uncomfortable. Why wouldn’t he be? She’d never seen him engage in physical contact unless it was absolutely necessary, had never seen him make any effort to emotionally comfort someone.

(No, that was a lie. An image of Sherlock appeared in her mind; of him pressing a kiss to her cheek, an apologetic look in his eyes. The wrapping paper of a Christmas gift crinkled in his hands. A blush appeared on her face. Something fluttered in her stomach, but Molly firmly pushed the memory away.)

Sherlock _was_ comforting John. The realisation struck something deep inside her. The tense expression on the taller man’s face wasn’t a look of discomfort -it was a look of determination. Determination to make it up to his best friend, to make his pain go away. Sherlock Holmes had saved John Watson and was now silently vowing to do right by him this second (third?) time around.

Molly felt tears well in her eyes. Her stomach turned into knots.

She was ecstatic and sad at the same time. It hurt to see them like this –to see all the pain and heartbreak that filled this room being shown so plainly in the way they held themselves. In the way they held each other. At the same time, it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever witnessed.

She was an intruder in this moment, in a monumental scene between the two main characters of a story that she played but a minor role in. She didn’t belong.

And so Molly Hooper turned around as silently as she could, making sure the stairs didn’t creak on her way down as they had on her way up.

_I'm running late. Meet me at the cakeshop instead of 221B? M x_

Her vision blurred as she sent the message to Sherlock. When Mrs. Hudson found her in the hallway several minutes later, tears were streaming down the younger woman's face.

‘Are you alright, my dear?’

‘I think so?’ Molly said, her voice trembling. It sounded like a question. ‘They’re happy tears.’

(She thought they were. Partly, at least.)

Mrs. Hudson may not have been as brilliant as Sherlock, or as ruthless as Mycroft when it came to deductions, but she wasn’t stupid. ‘Oh,’ she said. Her mouth curled up at the knowledge that John and Sherlock had probably made up, and her eyes watered at the sight of the pathologist’s state. ‘Oh!’

Molly couldn’t contain her sobs any longer. She was overflowing with emotions, so many different ones that she couldn’t begin to identify them. The weight on her chest felt both painful and pleasant. Mrs. Hudson took a step forward and gathered her into her arms, shushing softly.  

As Sherlock comforted his best friend upstairs, the two most important women in his life embraced each other in the hallway below.

Not that Molly Hooper or Mrs. Hudson knew they played such big parts.

Not yet, anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or write me something on [tumblr](https://cycling-lane.tumblr.com), if that's your thing ;) 
> 
> Have a lovely day!
> 
> -A


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